


Anointed Ones

by triedunture



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bukkake, Comeplay, Facials, M/M, Time Travel, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a bit of a cumslut for Angelic Reasons and he is not above using his heavenly powers to get what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anointed Ones

  
It was the nearest they could come to a compromise, though Dean still didn't understand entirely. Castiel had tried to explain, frustrated with the limited words he could use. In heaven, communication was seamless. Here, it varied. There were times when he could look into Dean's eyes and know he needed no words. This time, though, Dean's face was lined in confusion.

"What do you mean it's not enough?" he had asked.

Castiel curled close to him, hyper-aware of their over-heated skin, the scratch of the cheap motel sheets, the hurt in Dean's eyes as he flinched from Cas's touch. "I'm not saying _you_ are not enough; of course you are--" He licked his lips in hesitation. They so rarely talked in plain terms about what they were to each other. "You are all I want. But I..."

But Castiel was not human. He did not find satisfaction so easily. His being was huge, looming, unknowable. And at times he wished Dean could stand side-by-side with him at the edge of the yawning gulf, and be unfettered by human things.

"I do find pleasure when I'm with you like this, please believe me." Castiel touched a hand to Dean's flank, feeling it expand and contract with his shallow breaths. "But you are only human, and we can only be together in this way for such a short time."

Dean crinkled his eyebrows together and stayed silent for a long time. Then he opened his mouth and said, "What about this?" And he outlined the strange compromise. And this, this was why Castiel cherished the human race, and Dean in particular: that ability to be selfless and selfish at the same time, clever, beautiful, flawed and wonderful.

Now when Castiel lies with him, it takes place over the course of days, even weeks. Not hours. Not stolen minutes. He appears when he knows Dean is alone, either in a motel room or in the backseat of his car. Dean knows to expect him. He smiles at the first flurry of wingbeats, and then there is skin and heat and his mouth just as before, except now Castiel has permission to have as much as he wants from Dean, as long as he needs.

He coaxes Dean to release perhaps too soon, but he is impatient to begin. Dean spills white fluid over his fist, gasps as it drips down his forearm to patter on his thigh. Those green eyes, shaded with long lashes. Mouth open and pink. Dean is perfect like this, and now Castiel can have him this way again and again.

"Three hours," he whispers against Dean's temple. He kisses him and is gone, flashing through time on wings of light and power, until he finds Dean again. This Dean is rested, relaxed, pliant with his first orgasm, ready for his next. Castiel is still sticky and come-spattered. He sucks at Dean greedily. More, he will have more.

He comes to Dean like this over and over, a string of visits in the night. Sometimes Dean is unable to lie with him, in which case Castiel merely flies ahead to another time. Sometimes Dean is surprised, glancing at his watch and putting down his burger with a low, "Oh. Okay. Let's do this." Sometimes he is waiting for Castiel, naked and ready, hard cock already in hand. Every time he is made new, another Dean to please.

Each time Castiel leaves with a new mark: white come streaking his face, pooling at the corner of his mouth, dripping across the chest, between his legs, collected at the small of his back. Some of it is his own, milked from him by Dean's low growls and promises. Dean comes for him, and Castiel takes it, eyes shuttered in bliss, remembering how it felt to hold his gold-green soul in his hands for the first time. (It felt much like this.)

"Tomorrow, sunset, be ready for me," he murmurs into Dean's ear after they finish rutting against a tree in an abandoned field. Nothing lasts forever, and Castiel is ready to finish this.

He finds Dean locked in a roadside men's room, fly undone, erection hanging from the slit of his boxers. Castiel lands on his knees in front of him, already covered with the aftermath of their lovemaking six times over. Dean groans, rubbing the wet head of his cock against Cas's come-sticky lips. "Still fucking warm," he says, tipping his head back against the tiled wall.

Dean finishes against his cheek, painting a wide whorl that dribbles down his neck, flecks into his hair when he shakes his head in rapture. "Thank you, Dean," he says, nuzzling against the palm of his hand.

"Is this what you wanted?" Dean asks, thumb drawing patterns along Castiel's mouth. "Was it good?"

The only part Castiel had disliked was leaving Dean so abruptly. To him, the encounter had been seamless. Perfect. But Dean must have found himself alone and cold those handful of times Cas had flown away. Castiel asks him if this is the case, and Dean shrugs. "Not much of a cuddler. Kiss me?"

It is a simple request, and Castiel gains his feet to fulfill it. He presses close, smearing Dean and making him filthy. Dean's laugh rumbles through his chest. "I got work to do, can't go around covered in spunk."

"I'll clean you," Castiel says.

"With angel powers, huh?"

Castiel doesn't answer. Just starts licking.

 

 

 

fin  



End file.
